Pay Back Is An Itch
by Keesha
Summary: Never assume someone has forgotten what you did in the past as Callen learns the hard way.
1. Chapter 1

_This is a short little piece that was inspired by a song I heard the other day. Took a break from a longer piece I was editing to pen this story. Nothing heavy, just a light-hearted if somewhat overly long drabble. Enjoy. Reviews always appreciated._

CHAPTER 1

Early in the afternoon found Hetty and Callen squaring off in the middle of the bullpen having a loud difference of opinion, otherwise known as an argument. Callen was standing in front of his desk with his arms tightly clamped over his chest; his whole body was radiating disapproval. "Use Deeks," he demanded of his diminutive boss who was standing calmly in front of him holding a photo.

"I would, but he doesn't fit the profile, Mr. Callen," she told him once again with an aggravated sigh that indicated she had enough of this conversation and the continued stubbornness of her lead agent.

Callen still refused to back down and he didn't care that his boss was ready to shoot him, dump him in the ocean and swear she had no idea what became of him. He pressed on; his face a mask of defiance. "Then use Sam."

Hetty reminded herself to stay composed and not reach out and strangle her galling agent; it would take too long to train a replacement if she killed him. "As I explained," a hundred times was the unspoken subtext, "Sam will be going under with you, but as a body guard."

Callen's mouth quirked in the corners with irritation. "Why can't we switch? I can be a bodyguard." This too was a conversational point the duo had already visited more than once.

Patience is a virtue, Hetty chided herself. "Switching roles could be problematic for this case. Sam might be considered a tad too intimidating for this particular role."

"I can be intimidating." Callen proved his point by giving her one of his most demoralizing glares. Hetty, however, remained nonplused so he dropped his bad boy act.

"You have nothing to prove to me, Mr. Callen. I know you can be anything or anybody and now I need you to be him." She held up the photo of Callen that had been photo-shopped and gave it a little wave. The picture showed the agent in a pair of skin-tight black jeans and a white, fitted, wife-beater that set off his physique to perfection. It left little to the imagination what he was selling.

"That's not me," he griped unfolding his arms, plucking the beefcake-shot from her hand and firmly placing it face down on his desk.

"It most certainly is," she countered adamantly wagging her finger at him. "Though I do admit it is a composite of a few shots from your file.

Callen shook his head emphatically as he shoved his hands in he front pocket of his jeans. "Can't be. I have never worn that style of t-shirt in my life."

"Longshoreman case, June 2005," she succinctly informed him.

His eyebrows shot skyward. "You went back into my CIA records?"

Hetty gave him an exasperated look not believing he would even bother to voice that comment. "Mr. Callen, as you very well know my reach is long and far," she replied before she crossed her arms across her chest and stared him down.

After a minute, Callen broke eye contact, walked behind his desk and dropped into his chair. His agile mind was already switching to a new tactic. "What you are asking me to do is degrading," he proclaimed with a distasteful expression on his face as he tapped the back of the practically porn photo on the desk with his forefinger.

"Did someone say degrading? Sounds like a job for me," Deeks cheerfully announced strolling into the bullpen where Callen and Hetty were having their heated exchange.

Callen threw Hetty a 'see I told you so' glare which she chose to blatantly ignored.

Hetty took a step forward, reached out her hand and flipped the photo on Callen's desk so it was visible again while she addressed Deeks.

"While you do tend to be assigned many of the, ah, how shall I put this, lower echelon roles, you are not right for this case." Hefty returned her attention to Callen who has attempting to flip the photo face down again. "Mr. Callen," she warned him and he sullenly withdrew his hand.

"Lower echelons. Isn't that a euphemism for low class? You talking about Deeks?" Sam queried walking into the bullpen placing a bottle of green tea on his desk. His eyes did a quick recon of everyone in the room, immediately knowing something had changed since he went out for lunch.

Focusing her attention back on her senior agent his asked, "If that were Kensi in that photo, would you still use the word degrading?"

"I didn't mean it like that Hetty," Callen back-peddled appearing a bit chastised, though he still tried to slide a manila folder over the sex-on-a-stick photo.

The last member of the team strolled into the bullpen to join her teammates. "Did I hear my name?" Kensi asked as she walked over to Callen's desk to hand him the sack containing the sandwich she had picked up for him. She spotted the photo and before he could stop her, Kensi had picked it up holding it with the tips of her fingers as if it were on fire. "Caliente!" she said appreciatively.

Callen slapped his hands on this desk and pointedly glared at Hetty. "That's what I'm talking about."

Deeks and Sam immediately moved closer to Kensi and big smiles appeared their faces when they saw the photo. Callen actually blushed slightly as his teammates examined the sexy photo of him.

Sam let out a low wolf-whistle as he reached over and took the photo from Kensi to examine it better. "You been moonlighting G?"

Deeks opened his mouth to add his own comment but the stare Callen leveled at him made his blood run cold.

"Got something to add Deeks?" Callen challenged the younger man in a tone that could freeze water and melt ice at the same time.

"Nope. I'm good," Deeks wisely retreated as he put his hands behind his back to show he had no intentions of touching the photo.

To break the tension, Kensi asked, "Someone want to fill me in?"

Deeks and Sam dually shrugged. "Just walked in ourselves," Sam supplied. "But I too am dying to hear the story behind that unbelievably hot photo of our man G."

Three gazes shifted to look at their team lead who was scowling and appeared to be trying to make the photo self-destruct by the sheer force of his will. "Keep it up and you might get your wish," Callen muttered darkly as he snatched the photo from Sam.

Knowing no honest answer would come from quarter, Sam, Kensi and Deeks shifted their focus to their Ops Manager who was standing there with a deceptively innocent expression on her face. She wasn't called the Duchess of Deception for nothing.

Nell, who had a habit of bursting into a room without knocking so to speak, rushed into the bullpen right in the middle of the conflict. "I found it Hetty," she announced triumphantly holding the item aloft.

All eyes rotated from Hetty to Nell to the item she was holding. "What is that?" Sam probed having no clue what the analyst was holding in her hand.

"Looks like a slingshot with polka dots," Deeks supplied helpfully.

Kensi started giggling. "Guys, I think it is a bikini."

Deeks shook his head no. "Ut-ah. I like to think growing up in California and being a surfer, I am a bit of an authority on women's swimwear. A bikini is a two piece suit. So where's the top? Unless," he added getting a bit more animated, "we're going to a topless beach. Oh please Hetty! Say our next assignment is at a topless beach and that is for Kensi!"

Kensi gave her partner a look of pure disgust as she walked over to the blushing, red-headed analyst. "That Deeks," Kensi instructed as she took the object from Nell's and stretched it between her two hands, "is a male bikini, sometimes referred to as a thong."

The ever-practical Navy SEAL glowered at the scrap of material in her fingers. "You can't swim in that!"

"Technically, you can Sam," Nell corrected, still sporting her rosy red-cheeks.

Deeks reached over and snatched the suit from Kensi's hands. "Stop fondling it Fern." Deeks held the bikini up as if he were imagining it on Sam. "You'll look great in this Sam." Deeks studied the suit again and then gave the well-built muscular man another appraising glance. "I don't know Nell. This might be too small for the, ah, area it needs to cover."

Nell's blush deepened, while Hetty gave Deeks a stern glare of disapproval. For the second time in the space of fifteen minutes, Deeks received the death glare, but this time from Sam. "I can't believe you said that Deeks."

Deeks had the decency to appear a bit abashed. "You know, I can't either. Ok, maybe that comment, like this suit, was a tiny bit inappropriate."

Hetty had enough of the shenanigans of her agents. She held out her wizened hand, palm up. "The suit please, Mr. Deeks. This is neither for you or Sam." Deeks meekly handed it over to his boss. Sam and Callen might intimidate Deeks at times, but their ninja boss spooked him 24/7.

At some point during the discourse, when no one was focused on him, Callen had quietly slipped away taking the photo with him. When Hetty turned to speak to him and found him missing she muttered, "Oh bugger." With a long suffering sigh she addressed Sam. "Please go find your wayward partner and escort him to my office by whatever means necessary." With that she and the itsy bitsy teeny weenie male polka-dot bikini glided off to her desk.

As soon as Hetty left the bullpen, Deeks burst out laughing uncontrollably. "Do you think she plans to make Callen wear that...that...thing?"

"Only if she forces him at gun point." Sam paused moment thinking about his partner. "Nope that wouldn't even work. He'd take a bullet over the bikini."

Kensi got indignant with her male colleagues. "If Hetty forced me to wear a minuscule bikini, you'd be all over that like a slobbering Saint Bernard."

Sam defended himself and tossed Deeks under the bus. "I'm married but there ain't nothing saintly about Deeks."

Kensi continued on with her tirade. "Sure, it's ok for the female agent to go out in public almost naked to catch the bad guy but not male agent?"

"The only thing Callen is going to catch in that loin cloth is a cold," Deeks wisecracked. "Or maybe a rash. Definitely sunburn." He held out a hand for a high five and Sam actually gave him one.

"Sam, surely you don't stand behind his sexist view point?" Kensi indignantly demanded not believing Sam, the honorable SEAL, was siding with Deeks on this subject.

"SEALs don't swim in gear like that. It's not Navy issue," Sam evaded not answering the question. "I gotta go find Callen." He rapidly left the bullpen happy to be away from any further discussions.

All remaining eyes turned towards Nell who was still standing there and had not yet voiced an opinion on the subject at hand. "Nell," Kensi coaxed trying to get someone to agree with her viewpoint.

"Ah, well, ah," she stammered, "there's no water in the Midwest. We don't swim." She spun on her heels and practically sprinted back upstairs to her tech-safe haven leaving Deeks and Kensi alone in the bullpen.

Deeks walked over and flopped in his chair behind his desk. "I mean if you really want me to put on that suit and give you a private viewing I'd be happy too. Not my normal style. I usually go for board shorts. My mama always said don't give the milk away for free, but for you Kensi..." Kensi rolled her eyes and went back to her own desk and started on some paperwork. Deeks gave her a cheesy grin which she totally ignored. "Alright. Your loss."


	2. Chapter 2

Sam went to track down is AWOL partner hoping he was still in the building; if not, he'd need Eric and Nell's assistance. He passed thru the firing range where he discovered the first sign of his partner's passing; taped to the target was the remains of the sexy photo of Callen. It had been obliterated by bullet holes. Interesting destruction method Sam thought, though using the shredder would have been more efficient. Moving on it didn't take him long before he found Callen in the weapons room studiously cleaning his gun. Sam studied his friend for a moment as he cleaned his weapon with a little too much force, a sure sign Callen was upset. "You planning on shooting anyone else?"

"Maybe," the blond agent retorted staying firmly focused on his task.

Sam casually leaned against the nearby work bench. "Ya know you're getting predictable in your hiding places."

"I'm not hiding," Callen stated factually even though they both knew it was a lie.

"Yeah you are. You're hiding from Hetty and that thing," Sam replied referring to the bathing suit.

Callen dropped the cleaning cloth on the table and put his hands on his thighs exasperated. "What was she thinking?"

Sam gave a non-committal grunt. "Hetty is one of the seven wonders of the world. If you figure her out you deserve the Nobel prize."

Callen clearly wasn't listening to his partner as he folded his arms across his chest. "You've seen me at the beach. What do I wear?" he challenged Sam.

Sam wasn't sure where this was going but after thinking for moment he replied. "Usually a black short wetsuit with a blue stripe, though I have occasionally seen you don board-shorts."

"And," Callen coached his friend obviously not happy with the answer yet.

"And what?" Sam had no idea what Callen wanted him to say. "Where are you going with this G?"

Callen was definitely frustrated by Sam's inability to follow his logic trail. "What do I wear with the board-shorts?" Callen prompted Sam again.

Irritated, Sam threw his hands in the air. "I don't know. Sunglasses? This is getting weird."

Callen slid off the stool and moved towards Sam stopping at the edge of his personal space. "In the last five years, how many times have you seen me without a shirt?"

Frowning at his partner, Sam shrugged. "I don't know. I really don't track your shirt usage." Callen gave him a frustrated glare, begging him to try harder. "Alright. Maybe a couple of times in the locker room, changing for an Op, when I had to shock your heart because you electrocuted yourself..."

Callen held up a hand to Sam's face. "Whoa there. You ripped my shirt off."

Sam snorted and rolled his eyes. "Sorry. I was saving your life at the time. Didn't think neatness counted."

Callen practically stamped his foot in aggravation. "Hetty made me pay for that shirt! Not only was it ugly, but it was also expensive!"

Sam waved his hands in exasperation. "Then next time don't lick your fingers and stick them in an electrical outlet."

Callen shook his head. "It wasn't like that and you know it. But back to the subject. When in the last five years have you seen me in PUBLIC without a shirt?"

Sam mulled that over for a second. "Never," he replied truthfully.

"And you know why that is?" Callen crossed his hands over his chest again and waited for his partner's answer.

Sam shrugged. "Can't say it has ever kept me up at night." Callen gave his partner a combination grimace-smirk. "Well it doesn't," Sam replied factually.

Sighing, Callen deflated, like someone let the air out of his sails. "You know what happens when I take my shirt off in public Sam?"

Sam's dimple appeared as he smiled. "I'm guessing the answer is not girls swoon."

Callen gave a laugh that was a touch bitter in nature. "People freak. Nipple piercings, tattoos, belly-button rings, they're ok. But my scars..."

"I'm guessing the answer isn't priceless," Sam filled in.

Callen unconsciously rubbed one of his scars on his chest through his shirt. "Nope. People point. They stare. Some even have the audacity to come up to me and ask how I got them. Complete strangers!"

"The nerve," Sam mock-scowled. They paused a beat. "So let me get this straight. Your problem is not that Hetty wants you to wear that glorified band-aid, but the fact you can't wear a shirt with it?"

Now it was Callen's turn to hesitate. "I didn't say that."

"So you would wear the suit," Sam pushed his partner almost daring him to say yes.

Callen gave Sam an haute look. "I'm comfortable with my sexuality."

Sam gave him a 'get real look' and Callen promptly backed down. "Ok, I don't want to wear that postage stamp."

"Come on G," Sam cajoled. "You're mostly in good shape, for a guy your age. Lay off the doughnuts and bacon and work out with me for a month and you'll rock that bathing suit."

Callen walked back behind the bench to put the tools away he had used to clean his gun. "What you said is wrong on so many levels I don't even know where to begin."

"How about by going to Hetty's office with me," Sam cajoled though he wasn't really kidding.

Callen winced as he reached back and holstered his cleaned weapon. "Nah. I don't think so."

"Wrong answer," Sam said reaching out and grabbing Callen bicep. "She sent me to get you. I wouldn't want to disappoint her."

"You have in the past, disappointed her I mean." Callen pulled back a bit only to discover Sam's grip remained strong.

Sam was wise to his partner's antics. "With me now G. Or I pick you up and sling you over my shoulder."

"Is that a threat?" Callen asked his eyes bright with the anticipation of a challenge.

"If it has to be," Sam replied quietly but with a tone that said he would brook no foolishness and he would win.

Callen studied his partner and decided the man was serious, would follow through on his threat and Callen was pretty sure their boss would not appreciate them wrestling in the weapons room. With a sigh he acquiesced. "Fine. I'll come along quietly, Sheriff. Let's go."

Sam released Callen's arm but his scowl remained in place; he didn't trust his seemingly cooperative partner. "No tricks."

Callen walked slowly past Sam into the corridor. "This is me. Walking cooperatively to Hetty's office."

Sam trailed behind desperately trying to figure out his partner's plan. The only thing he was sure about was the game wasn't over yet.


	3. Chapter 3

"Whoa, where are you going?" Sam inquired when halfway to Hetty's office Callen peeled off in the wrong direction.

Callen stopped, turned, and placed his hands on his hips. "Really Sam. I have to go to the men's room. Do I honestly need your permission?"

Sam did a quick mental check of the bathroom. It was on the inner core of the building. No windows. The duct work was too small for Callen to crawl thru and there were no other points of egress. Sure there were definitely items in there Callen could cause mischief with, but he'd still have to come out the one door that he entered and Sam was going to be watching that doorway like a hawk.

"My bad. Go ahead," Sam apologized congenially.

Which a definite edge of sarcasm Callen tossed a "Thanks Dad," over his shoulder as he disappeared into the bathroom.

He came out a few minutes later with his hands tucked in the rear pockets of his jeans. Sam eyes narrowed. "Turn around," he demanded.

Giving Sam an amused smirk, Callen rotated presenting his back. Sam scanned his devious partner, not seeing anything unusual; yet his Callen BS radar was sounding a silent alarm. "Let me see your hands."

Rotating back to face Sam, he held his hands out for inspection. "Don't worry. I washed them. See they are still wet." He gave them a little shake and droplets of water hit Sam in the face. "Oh yeah, did I forget to mention we're out of paper towels?"

Callen started moving nonchalantly towards Hetty's office and Sam followed. Walking side by side, they were passing by the bullpen when Eric unexpectedly appeared at the top of the stairs and called out urgently. "Everyone. Ops. Now!"

Halting, Sam focused on Eric, struck by the unusual urgency in the tech's voice. Sam turned back towards Callen only to discover his partner, in the spilt-second Sam's attention was diverted had vanished.

Kensi and Deeks were already swiftly heading for the staircase. Eric was turning back towards the Ops Center when Sam called up to him. "Eric. Who told you to call us into Ops?" Sam already had a good idea of the answer.

"Callen. He said it was urgent." Eric glanced around the lower floor of the building. "Ah, where is he?"

"Probably halfway to Mexico," Sam groused. "It's a false alarm, Eric."

Kensi and Deeks reversed and walked back into the bullpen. "What's going on Sam?" Kensi asked, confused.

"Yes Mr. Hanna. Please enlighten us." Hetty, in stealth mode, had slid in behind him.

"This is entirely your fault Hetty. You and that slingshot," Sam complained. "You'll be lucky if Callen ever shows up for work again."

Deeks bounced over to Callen's desk and grabbed his stapler. "Dibs on the stapler." He held it aloft triumphantly and Sam swiftly reached over and took it back.

"Leave G's stuff alone or I'll tell him. He may not have much but he is possessive." Sam placed the pilfered item back on the top of the desk.

Deeks raised his now empty hands in the air. "This is me, backing away." He sidled over to Kensi's side and whispered, "He's not gonna tell Callen is he?"

Kensi grinned evilly. "He may not but I might."

"You can't. You're my partner. You're supposed to be on my side," Deeks explained to her seriously.

At that moment Sam's phone buzzed and a glance showed him it was a text from Callen. 'Not feeling well. Went home. See you tomorrow.'

"Mr. Callen?" Hetty guessed with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah. Says he's not feeling well. He went home," Sam confirmed though it was easy to see he was as skeptical of the message as his boss.

"I see," Hetty replied in a voice that clearly said she did not. With a little humph, she headed back to her office.

The rest of the day passed quietly. On his way out, Sam popped up the stairs to Hetty's area. "Goodnight Hetty."

Peering up from the document she was reading, Hetty smiled. "Goodnight, Mr. Hanna."

"Callen will show up tomorrow. Don't worry." Sam shifted his bag uneasily to his other hand. He seemed like he wanted to say more, and then changed his mind.

Hetty placed her pen carefully on her desk blotter. "I have no doubts."

"Yeah. Yeah," but it really sounded like Sam was trying to convince himself more than Hetty. "Well goodnight." He stared at Hetty for another moment before leaving.

Hetty shook her head slowly as she watched him depart. She predicted tomorrow would be an interesting day.


	4. Chapter 4

Every morning when the techie came to work, the first task Eric did was check that his beloved servers and other high-tech toys had survived the night without any issues. While he did that, Nell, the analyst, worked her way through the news feeds to see what happened overnight and if anything was relevant to their work.

Eric was running a status report when Nell went, "Ut-oh." The tone in her voice suggested what came next was not going to be good. "Eric, would you watch something and tell me what you see." She pushed a few buttons and a video came up on the big screen.

Eric moved to stand front and center. "Oh, is this that bus that slid down the side of the slope? Boy did that snarl traffic. What does this have to do with us?" He turned to raise a questioning eyebrow at his tech buddy.

She jerked her chin towards the monitor. "Just watch Eric," she commanded.

Eric refocused on the screen and observed as the scene unfolded. He could tell Nell had stitched together a number of feeds to make this longer running set. She had managed to get footage from the beginning of the event because he saw a car's tire blow out, causing it to swerve, which triggered a chain reaction with the vehicles around it, resulting in the top-heavy school bus flipping on its side, crashing through the guardrail before sliding over the edge of the embankment. A few frames later a man in a dark colored hoodie entered into the picture and slid down the slope of vegetation towards the bus. The man disappeared in and out of view but eventually it became clear he was getting the children out of the bus. Other rescue workers appeared on the scene and eventually the good Samaritan was lost in the crowd of people. The last few frames showed the good Samaritan as he handed off a child to a waiting EMT; as he did that his hood slipped back for a moment. Before he could reposition it. Nell froze the screen then enlarged the frame. Eric let out a low whistle. "Is that who I think it is?"

"Well, unless Callen has a doppelgänger, I'd say yes." Nell typed on her keyboard before spinning back to face her partner. "I have erased that footage from the source so Callen won't be showing up on the evening news."

"Have you told Hetty yet," but before Nell could answer Eric's question the aforementioned Boss' face appeared on the video screen.

"Yes she has Mr. Beale," Hetty's non-smiling giant head replied.

Eric swallowed and muttered "Of course. What was I thinking?"

"Thank you," the disembodied head said before she disconnected. With a collective sigh of relief, Eric and Nell went back to their tech tasks.

NCIS-LA NCIS-LA NCIS-LA NCIS-LA

As Callen was getting out of his car in the parking lot of the Mission in the morning, his phone buzzed. Flicking his eyes down at the screen, he scanned the text from Sam instructing him to head straight to the Challenger; they had a case. Groaning, the agent grabbed his stuff out of the Mercedes and locked the door, wishing he had stopped to grab a bite to eat; it might be a long time until he got food.

Halfway to the vehicle, it started up again and with his bag in one hand and his precious coffee in the other, he was stuck. Though the Challenger was only a 100 feet away, he almost considered dropping his much-needed coffee, the only thing that was going to get him through the morning, in order to relieve the issue. Practically sprinting, he hurriedly covered the distance to the car, dropped his stuff on the hood and relieved his discomfort. He was bent over behind the car when Sam came walking up.

"What the hell is your crap doing on the hood of my car!" he growled at his partner who popped up somewhat like a prairie dog from behind the far side of the vehicle.

"I dropped something," Callen hastily explained yanking his long-sleeved blue t-shirt decisively into place.

"Yeah, well next time put your stuff somewhere else. I washed and waxed her last night." Sam gave her a loving stroke on the hood before he climbed behind the wheel. Callen gave his partner and eye roll before follwoing suit getting in the passenger side. He tossed his bag in the back seat and placed his steaming coffee cup in the holder.

Sam gave the cup of java the evil eye. "And don't be spilling that stuff in my car. I cleaned the inside too."

Jimmying the lid off the cup, Callen took a grateful sip and sighed with relief. It had been rough night, worse than usual for him and that was saying a lot. The caffeine was going to go a long way this morning to helping him be human. "What's up?" he asked curiously after another long swig of caffeine.

Sam maneuvered the black Dodge with ease in the morning traffic. "Stakeout. Possible connections to the Andino cartel."

Callen groaned under his breath as he glanced out the window at the passing landscape. "Isn't it a bit early?"

Sam gave a derisive snort at his partner's comment. "What's a matter didn't get enough beauty sleep? Cause from where I'm sitting," Sam flicked his eyes over his partner, "you look like you need a few more hours, maybe a day." That earned him another eye roll from Callen which caused Sam to grin; he liked yanking his partner's chain. "Tell you what, when we catch the bad guy I'll tell him you would appreciate that next time he starts his day later."

"You'd do that for me?" Callen insincerely mocked his partner. "That would be great." He absent-mindedly rubbed his left shoulder-blade against the seat for a few seconds. "Could we stop for a bite to eat on the way?"

Sam wondered if Callen really had been sick yesterday and still was suffering from some lingering effects; his mind seemed like it was out in left field this morning. "Let me get this straight. You want me to stop on the way to stake-out, with what could be a major player in the Andino cartel, so you can get breakfast?"

Callen stopped squirming in his seat and reached for his coffee again. "Yeah, if it is not too much trouble. I could use a refill too." He held aloft the half-empty cup giving it a gentle shake.

Deciding it was going to be one of those days, Sam simply answered, "In your dreams fly-boy."

Callen started fidgeting in his seat and his mind seemed to wander again. "I am actually a fly-boy if you consider I can operate both a helicopter and plane."

"You can," Sam agreed playing along in the inane conversation. "But you're not licensed and you don't do it very well. You fly like Kensi drives. You get to the destination but your passenger's turn green."

"I can land. I can take off and I can keep it level in the sky. What more do you want? Beverage service?" Callen questioned as he tried to discretely rub the side of his left leg with his right foot.

"That still doesn't make you a pilot," Sam countered as he turned left at the intersection.

Callen ignored Sam and settled deeper into his seat, closing his blue eyes for a few moments. "Never said I was a pilot. Just said I could fly a plane and a helicopter."

Observing his partner from the corner of his eye again, Sam noticed what appeared to be scratch marks around the base of Callen's neck that disappeared under his shirt. He wondered where they came from and what else G's shirt might be hiding. His partner was not one to volunteer anything so Sam knew he'd have to ask if he wanted his curiosity resolved. "Rough night?"

"Something like that," came the noncommittal reply from the semi-dozing agent.

"Looks like some scratches on your neck. Get in a fight with the neighbor's cat or did your domineering fantasy finally become a reality." That got his partner to open his eyes and fully engage in the conversation.

"You know you are taking that comment I made way out of context," Callen retorted, his voice holding a hint of irritation. Sam remained quiet but a huge grin spread across his face. "If I didn't feel like crap, I'd wipe that smile off your face," Callen replied with bravado he certainly wasn't feeling this morning.

"Anytime. Anywhere." Both men knew there wasn't any ill-thoughts behind any of the banter, just normal morning rhetoric to pass the time. "So, you gonna tell me?" Sam prodded his recalcitrant friend.

Callen continued hedging and being deliberately obtuse. "Tell you what? I'm not a mind reader; you have me confused with Hetty."

They were approaching their destination so Sam let his partner's evasiveness ride for the moment while he parked the car in a spot where they could watch the motel in question. Once settled, he brought his partner up to speed verbally while Callen studied the pictures that Eric had sent to his phone of their suspect.

Reaching into the back seat, Callen brought the long-lensed camera forward and laid it on the console between him and Sam. There wasn't much activity around the motel at this time of the morning other than the maids and their carts going room to room cleaning. When a person did appear, Callen would snap a few pictures and send them off to the Wonder Twins so they could run them thru facial recognition.

The first hour passed without any noteworthy activity at the motel. The suspect they were looking for did not put in an appearance and they got no significant hits from the facial recognition software. Callen's behavior, however, was noteworthy, at least to Sam. His normally placid partner was in constant motion; squiggly, squirming, fiddling and fidgeting. The moments when Callen actually sat still were few and far between and Sam swore they were less than five minutes in duration. Inquires as to what was wrong brought answers as expected; I'm good; Nothing; It's your imagination; Stop mothering me. By the end of the third hour, Sam was ready to forcibly eject his partner from the car.

"You are worse than Deeks' mutt Monty. Do you have fleas?" Sam asked exasperated as his partner wiggled around in his seat again.

Callen who had been almost unconsciously rubbing his lower calf for the last three minutes stopped and frowned at Sam. "I take offense at being compared to Deeks' dog."

Further conversation halted when Sam glanced over at the motel they were staking out and spotted their target entering his room. Sam gestured with his chin. "G, he is here." Peering where Sam indicated, Callen spotted their suspect.

The building was a one story, rectangular shaped, pull-up-in-front motel consisting of twenty units with the end one serving as the office; it had seen better days. Earlier they had scouted the perimeter and knew each room had one entry door facing the parking lot with a large square window next to it. In the back of each room was a window in the bathroom, not big enough for anyone to escape thru and one more normal sized window which one could jump out of if required.

Callen swung open his door. "I got the back." Drawing his gun, he slid out of the car and quickly headed around the rear of the motel.

Sam got out of the car and took up position along side of the door, gun in his hand, pointed upwards. When he got the text on his phone that Callen was in place, he moved in front of the motel door and kicked it open then ducked back yelling "Federal Officer. Stop." As usual, it did no good; when he cautiously bobbed in front of the door he saw the suspect fleeing out the back window. Sam entered the room and efficiently cleared it.

Callen saw their subject bolt out the window and take off at a run, so he too shouted "Federal Agent. Stop," which caused the suspect to run even faster. Swearing under his breath, Callen pounded after the fugitive across the grassy area behind the motel.

Sam quickly cleared the glass shards from the window frame before he scrambled thru it to take up pursuit with his partner.

The suspect scaled the chain link fence behind the motel, dropping swiftly on far side and Callen, holstering his gun, did the same. The guy ran thru a gravelly area, across a highway that was thankfully not too busy before vaulting over the guard-rail on the far side of the road and slithering down an embankment.

Callen did a quick mental calculation and instead of vaulting over the silver railing, he used the top to push off, becoming airborne, and making a flying tackle. Wrapping his arms around the guy when he hit his torso, the two men plunged to the ground and rolled over and over down the slope. When they stopped tumbling, Callen was on top of the man with a knee in his back and his gun aimed at the suspect's head.

Sam made his way a bit more cautiously down the slope than his partner's free-fall decent. When he got close to the two men he too trained his gun on their fugitive. "I got him covered G."

Callen got off the guy, put away his gun, pulled out a pair of zip ties and cuffed the guy's hands behind his back. Because of the rough and tumble manner in which Callen came down the embankment, his long-sleeved, blue, t-shirt had hiked up, exposing a portion of his lower back. Sam squinted at his partner's uncovered torso and was puzzled by what he saw; could it possibly be what he thought? It would explain a lot, but how had it occurred? Callen either felt the breeze blow across his exposed skin or felt his partner's intense stare, and he quickly reached around and yanked his shirt back down.

Sam was getting ready to say something when Deeks appeared cutting him off. "Hey hero," Deeks addressed Callen who was dragging the handcuffed suspect to his feet.

"Way to go Callen," Kensi added as she too joined them. Callen ducked his head a little and appeared uncomfortable about his teammate's comments.

Sam felt like he was missing a page from his play book that everyone else had obviously read. Why were his teammates congratulating Callen for a routine chase and not even a particularly graceful one? "I don't think he really caught the guy," Sam griped. "I think he tripped on top of the hill and bowled him over."

"All part of the plan," Callen replied smugly pushing the prisoner towards Deeks.

Sam shook his head vigorously. "Oh no. I refuse to believe that was a plan."

Callen raised his eyebrow and shrugged his shoulders. "Think what you want big guy." With that, he handed the prisoner off to Deeks and started to make his way back up the hillside.

"I can't believe you guys were stroking his ego like that," Sam complained to the two junior partners. "It wasn't a great save or anything."

"What are you talking about Sam? He single-handedly rescued more than half of those children." The look on Sam's face told Kensi he had no clue what Callen had done last night. "Didn't Callen tell you?"

Sam had an inkling he was about to hear something his partner forgot to mention...again. "Tell me what?"

Deeks couldn't stop himself from sniggering. "Wow. Callen forgot to tell Sam. Communication is the first thing to go in a marriage."

Sam was clearly irritated with Callen and Deeks comments weren't helping the matter. "Shut up Deeks," Kensi instructed as she took out her phone and pulled up the video from Nell and Eric.

Watching the storm clouds gather in Sam's eyes, Deeks decided it was time he took their prisoner back to the car. "Meet you at the car Kensi." Kensi would have dearly loved to go with him but Sam was still watching on her phone.

When the video was over, Sam calmly handed the phone back to Kensi who took it and awkwardly said, "Callen seems to have the knack for being in the wrong place at the right time."

"Yeah," Sam growled turning brusquely and heading back up the slope.

As Kensi trudged along behind him she had the distinct feeling that Sam's and Callen's ride back to Ops was going to be an uncomfortable one for their team-lead. "I'm sure he was going to get around to telling you Sam," she said trying to placate him. "You guys were having a hectic morning."

"Of course we were and there wasn't a single moment during the three hours we sat alone in the car watching the motel for Callen to say 'Hey Sam. Guess what happened to me last night'," Sam sarcastically shot back at her.

Kensi decided to keep her mouth shut and silently followed the muscular man to the top. At the road, she quickly peeled off towards her silver SUV where Deeks was standing with the prisoner. "See you at the boathouse guys," she called out as she hissed at Deeks to get in the car, fast.

Sam watched the two junior agents take off like greased lightning before shifting his attention to Callen who was lounging against the side of the Challenger. Angrily striding up to his secretive partner, Sam got right in his face. "Got something you forgot to mention to me?"

Tilting his head to the left and frowning slightly he said, "That's pretty broad."

Sam debated about reaching over and strangling his partner then did a mental check on his attitude and sighed instead. This was Callen he was talking about; the poster child for evasiveness, not sharing and trust issues. Sam let his anger go but did let his voice register disappointment in his partner's behavior. "I thought we had gotten past this; that we had a higher level of trust in our relationship."

Callen felt Sam's hurt and displeasure and he felt contrite because the big guy was right; Callen should have told him. "I'm sorry Sam," he said sincerely. "I was distracted this morning, focused elsewhere."

Crossing his arms across his chest, Sam looked pointedly at Callen's torso. "Could your distraction have anything to do with what I saw on your back?"

Now Callen really appeared uncomfortable as they entered into another of his off-limit topics; injuries. For a moment he tried to spin a web of deceit in his mind but it wasn't working so with a sigh he came clean. "I came in contact with poison ivy when I was rescuing those kids on the school bus."

"Oh. You those kids? The ones in the video that Kensi had to show me because you were so distracted today you forgot to mention, in passing, that last night you rescued a bus load of frantic children from certain death."

Callen shifted his weight uneasily. "It wasn't that dramatic. I saw the bus slide over the edge. I stopped my car, threw on a hooded sweatshirt in case the media showed up, scrambled down the slope to the bus, climbed in thru the windshield and pulled the uninjured kids out. Once rescue showed up, I disappeared."

"And," Sam prodded.

Callen stared at his partner for a few seconds to see if he would back down. It didn't take him long to realize Sam would wait him out, all day if necessary. With a huff he added, "And I must have slide thru a patch of poison ivy on my way down the slope."

"I seem to recall when I caught poison ivy you bragged you have never caught it," Sam accused him.

Grimacing Callen replied, "Never did before." Since he didn't have to keep it a secret anymore from Sam, Callen started vigorously scratching.

Sam reached over and slapped Callen's hands. "Stop. Scratching only makes it worse and increases the risk of infection."

"I can't," Callen whined as he rubbed his back against the Challenger's side which earned him the evil eye from Sam; he snuck in a few more good scratches. As Sam's hand reached out for him again he dodged sideways before Sam could grab him.

"Get in the car. We'll stop at a drugstore and get some calamine lotion and hydrocortisone cream. That will help." Sam paused a second. "Ya know I bet Hetty still has some calamine lotion left over from when I got poison ivy. We don't need to stop, we'll use hers."

Callen, who had been about to climb in the car, halted and gave Sam an incredulously glare over the roof of the black car; his voice held an edge of panic. "Oh no. You are not telling Hetty about this."

Sam gave him a 'get real' eye roll as he slid into the car; Callen followed suit dragging his body over every available inch of car to scratch his skin. "How you gonna hide this from Hetty. You keep scratching like a dog with flea." Sam reached over and swatted his partner's hand again to stop him. "Besides she probably knew you had it before you did."

Callen knew his partner was right about Hetty, but it didn't mean he had to like it or admit it to Sam.

_Author's Note: So we finally have the reveal. Hope you were a little surprised. I was as I wrote it. Still not sure how this story morphed from Callen in a hot Speedo to Callen with poison ivy. Plot bunnies do odd things at times. One more chapter to tie everything up neatly and explain the title. Enjoy and as always feel free to review. _


	5. Chapter 5

Callen sulked all the way to the drug store and when they got their he insisted Sam go in and buy what he needed since the big guy was so experienced in this area. Because he didn't feel like arguing for the next 45 minutes and Callen's constant squirming, scratching and fidgeting was driving Sam nuts, he went in and got the required supplies.

After paying for the items, Sam headed back out to the car and unceremoniously tossed the bag into Callen's lap. As they drove back to Ops, Callen examined the contents of the sack pulling out the hydrocortisone cream, Benadryl and finally the bottle of calamine lotion. "Whoa," he said uncapping the lid and peering inside the plastic bottle. "This stuff is pink! You couldn't buy another color?" he complained to Sam.

Sam's mouth set in a tight straight line, annoyed by the fact Callen thought he deliberately went out of his way to buy pink lotion. "You want to stop itching? Swallow your manly pride and slather that on your skin but not in my car! I don't want that goop on my leather seats."

"Yeah, but pink?" Callen bellyached which he punctuated by another round of scratching followed by another slap from Sam. Callen tried to slide as far away from Sam as the car allowed. "Stop hitting me!"

"Then stop scratching. If they get infected you'll be sorry and I know somehow that will translate to me being miserable too. Think how much bacteria you gathered tumbling down that slope," Sam tried to rationalize.

"I'm scratching on top of the shirt. Not on the skin." Callen used his left hand to scratch while keeping his right one ready to fend off Sam.

With a snort, Sam pulled into the parking lot. "Yeah, so you are rubbing the dirt from your shirt into your poc ridden body. Good move G."

Callen thought for a moment then tucked his hands under his butt to try to keep from scratching. "How long does the itching last?"

Sam gave a little smile as he maneuvered into his normal spot. "A week, maybe ten days." Out of the corner of his eye he saw his partner wince. "Lukewarm baths can help too."

Callen closed his eyes in defeat and leaned against the head rest as the car stopped. "Great. Baths and pink lotion."

After they went inside, Callen disappeared into the bowels of the building with the bag while Sam headed to his desk. A little while later Callen reappeared and sat down behind his desk. The agent opened his laptop, called up his email and started to peruse his inbox.

Sam glanced at his partner and saw a smear of the pink lotion peeking out from his collar. "Ah G. Your support for breast cancer is showing." Sam rubbed his fingers along his own collar to show where the problem area was located.

Reaching sideways, Callen swiped a tissue off Kensi's desk and scrubbed at his neck. "Gone?"

Sam appraised him then gave a quick affirmative nod.

"Mr. Callen," came the sing-song voice of the Ops Manager from somewhere behind him.

Not wanting to be caught with the evidence, Callen expeditiously wadded up the tissue and threw it across the bullpen into Deeks' garbage can.

"Three points," Sam called out cheerfully as the tissue settled in its intent target without even touch the rim.

Hetty strolled around Callen's desk until she was standing directly in front. "Are we feeling better today?"

Callen casually leaned back in his chair and plastered his trademark smirk on his face. "Absolutely. Must have been something I ate."

"I see," Hetty said her voice rising a bit on the word 'see'. "Perhaps you need to re-evaluate your choice of suitable lunch spots." They both knew that was bull since Callen hadn't eaten the sandwich Kensi had brought him. However, they continued on with their little charade.

Callen kept the smirk glued on his face even as a small trickle of sweat ran down his spine. "Yeah, well you know how Sam is always after me to eat healthier. Guess I should have listened."

Sam, sitting at his desk, was behind Hetty's back so she couldn't see his face. He raised his eyebrows at his conniving partner and gave a minuscule head shake; Callen was trying too hard and there was no way Hetty was gonna buy it.

The petite Ops Manager clasped her hands near her waist. "I guess your intestinal upset didn't hamper your rescue efforts." Her placid gaze scrutinized his face as she waited for his reply.

Callen's body temperature continued to rise as he kept being evasive with Hetty; this not only increased the sweat running down his back, but also triggered the poison ivy rash to start itching. "What else was I going to do? I had to help those children."

Sam rolled his eyes behind his boss's back at his partner. Using his hands, he made a little shoveling motion; Callen was digging his own grave with his fabrications.

Under his desk, Callen used the toe of his boot to scratch the calf of his other leg. He was very careful not to let his motion translate into his upper body which Hetty could see over his desk top.

His devious boss paid him a compliment. "You did an admirable job rescuing those children and the hoodie to hide your face from the media was very well played."

A small muscle twitched in Callen's jaw; he felt it and he was sure Hetty had spotted it. For some reason he could lie to anyone else in the entire world without a single tell, but when it came to lying to Hetty his body always betrayed him. "You saw the tape?" he asked in what he hoped was a neutral tone.

"Oh yes," Hetty replied in a most sincere tone. "Every frame of it. Nell did a wonderful job of editing the footage into one contiguous video."

Callen couldn't stand it. His nervousness was causing the poison ivy rash to flare. He raised his hands and clasped them behind his head which allowed him to scratch his back against his chair and get momentary relief. "Nell's good," he confirmed shifting his weight ever so slightly to rub his back against the chair again.

Sam moved his hand in a horizontal motion and then quickly angled it downward; Callen's ship was sinking. A small tightening of his partner's eyebrows told him the pictorial gesture was not lost on him.

Hetty unclasped her hands, placed them on the edge of Callen's desk and lean slightly forward, balancing on them. "The video was extraordinarily clear. I could see everything, every detail, just like I was there."

The muscle in Callen's jaw twitched again and Sam crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head sadly. The game was over.

Hetty slowly straightened up, reached into the pocket of her suit jacket and brought forth, with slight fanfare, a bottle of calamine lotion; pink of course. She placed it strategically on Callen's desk then crossed her arms over her chest sporting a triumphant expression.

Callen closed his eyes and let his head fall back against his chair while his partner muttered, "Busted."

Hetty didn't take her eyes off Callen even though she addressed Sam. "Have you forgotten I have eyes in the back of my head Mr. Hanna?"

Sam's expression quickly switched from one of glee, to one of concern. "What did I do Hetty?"

"Besides the graphical hand motions behind my back? You failed to report to your boss, that would be me in case you have forgotten, that your partner was injured."

"Wait a minute," Sam protested. "G is not injured. He has poison ivy. And I just found out myself. Mr. Lone Wolf forgot to mention it to me."

While Sam was speaking, Hetty had slowly turned around to face him. "So I am to assume you were momentarily on your way to inform me?"

Callen noted the location change of Hetty's voice, so he opened his eyes and discovered she had her back to him. He had only begun to shift his weight a fraction of an inch when he heard, "Don't even think of moving from that chair Mr. Callen." Busted again, he slumped in the chair, and then started to scratch his rash. "And stop scratching!" the strident voice commanded.

Being the impertinent person that he could be sometimes, Callen defiantly gave himself a good overall body scratch before he ceased.

"I saw that Mr. Callen. Mr. Hanna, we will continue our discussion at a later date but now I must attend to your partner's medical needs." She rotated back to face her senior agent who withered under her threat of treatment

"I have no medical needs." Callen forcibly pushed his chair away from his desk putting more distance between him and his wanna-be-doctor Boss. "Sam got me hydrocortisone cream, Benadryl and calamine lotion. I have this covered."

Sam's dimple made an appearance and he couldn't resist adding, "Yeah. You have it all covered... in pink lotion."

Hetty allowed a hint of a smile to cross her face at the witty jibe. Callen, on-the-other-hand was definitely unamused. Hetty took control again. "Be that as it may, we have other things to discuss. In my office. Now!" Doing a military precision turn, she marched back to her desk.

"Way to have my back Sam," Callen groused after Hetty had left the bullpen.

"No way I'm having your back on this one; it's covered in poison ivy. You are on your own until you get rid of that ick."

Callen shook his head and ran a weary hand over his face. "Nice partner," he replied drawing out the last word.

Sam waved his hand in his air. "This is like the 'wife with a cold' rule. When Michelle catches a cold, I'll be sympathetic. I'll go to the drug store. I'll offer words of encouragement; but I won't kiss her until she is better. She can keep her germs to herself or in your case your rash."

Frowning at Sam, Callen rose from his chair to head towards Hetty's office. "I wasn't asking you to kiss me."

"And I wasn't offering," Sam earnestly shot back as he started to read a document on his laptop.

On the way to Hetty's office, Callen took the opportunity to get in a few good scratches across his body's surface. Once he was in her line-of-sight he ceased and desisted. Flinging his body into the chair across from her desk, for once he appreciated the normally rough wicker back. It felt good on his itchy back.

When Callen was seated, though barely holding still, Hetty reached down, opened her bottom drawer, reached inside and placed the itsy bitsy teeny weenie male polka-dot bikini on her desk, before leaning back in her chair and folding her small hands across her stomach. "I believe we have some unfinished business."

The bathing suit should have burst into flames from the fiery gaze Callen leveled upon it. "You can't be serious. I can't wear that now! I'm injured!"

Hetty did a slight bird-head-tilt to the right. "Oh, are we changing our story Mr. Callen? Are you now telling me you did sustain an injury rescuing those children from the school bus?"

Callen clenched his jaw, took and released a deep breath. "Alright. I admit I might have sustained some minor afflictions."

"I'm all ears." Unfolding her hands, Hetty made a steeple with her fingers before pressing them to her lips.

Callen pursed his lips, stared her in the eyes and tried to present the image of a cool, collected, detached, super spy. "Ok, a few inconsequential scratches from the glass; a little bruising on my ribcage when I lost my footing. And of course the poison ivy of which you seem to be well aware." Not being able to help himself, he scratched his chest through his shirt like a dog after a flea thereby, demolishing his suave image. "I know. Don't scratch," he said beating her to the punch line.

Hetty reached over, lifted the thong off her desk and thoughtfully examined it for a few minutes. As the minutes ticked by, Callen grew more fidgety. Surely she couldn't still insist he put on that offensive jockstrap and go out in public. Finally, she transferred the object to her right hand and dropped it back in her desk drawer which she shut with her foot with a decisive click.

With a serious expression on her face, but the slightest touch of a twinkling in her blue eyes behind her glasses, she informed him, "we won't be needing this, at the moment. It seems that the case was resolved two nights ago without our assistance."

Callen rapidly did the math in his head, and then his face registered his disbelief in her actions. "That means you knew there was no need for me to ever don that thing before Nell showed up in the bullpen with it."

A slightly smug smile appeared on her face. "I suppose I did."

Callen ran his hands through his short-cropped hair, before dropping them to his chest and giving it another scratch. "So there was no need for any of this!"

"Exactly what was there no need for, Mr. Callen?" she queried her voice low with an edge of danger.

Callen pulled himself up short, clamping his lips shut. He mentally noted that poison ivy might be a good torture device; its infernal itching was so distracting, it broke ones concentration and made the tongue wag uncontrollably.

Hetty leaned slightly forward again in her chair. "Are you telling me, perhaps, that you slid through that patch of poison ivy on purpose to get out of having to wear the bathing suit?"

Once again as his temperature spiked and the poison ivy rash started itching everywhere. He couldn't stop his hands from scratching as he cagily answered Hetty's question. "I was busy savings those children. I didn't have time to stop and think..." Hetty raised her eyebrow in disbelief; her senior agent always thought first. "Ok maybe I did notice the poison ivy and maybe it did cross my mind if I contracted it I might not have to where that gloried scarf on my ass. But, I have never caught it before and I have been exposed to it several times."

"There is always a first time," she pointed out sagely.

"Tell me about it," he complained using the chair to give the back of his body and overall rub down.

"Well it is obvious you are in no condition to continue to work today; your infernal scratching will drive your co-workers to distraction. I suggest you go home, take a lukewarm bath with oatmeal, slather your body with calamine lotion, take a double dose of Benadryl and pray it knocks you out." With the most innocent expression on her face she added, "I'd be happy to drive you home and aid in any way I can."

Callen practically bolted from the chair at her suggestion of help. "No. I'm good." He swiftly turned and was about to scurry away when his curiosity got the better of him. Rotating back to face his boss he asked, "Why did you set me up with that indecent bathing suit if you knew the case was already resolved?"

Innocently blinking up at him thru her glasses she said, "Remember when I told you and Sam to stay out of my scotch when you were celebrating your partnership anniversary?"

"Yeah," Callen answered cautiously. He had the feeling he was about to get busted for a second, or was it third time today?

"You and Mr. Hanna did not need my words did you Mr. Callen," she scolded. "Pay back is a bitch. Or in your case an itch."

Shaking his head slowly, Callen couldn't stop himself from grinning; she had gotten him good. "You know Hetty, Sam was involved in that appropriation too."

"Yes, but I believe it was your idea. He just agreed," she pointed out.

Callen made a small mock bow, before turning and leaving the building, humbled and awed by the master. However, even as he itched his way to his car, his mind was turning over a plan of revenge. Pay back is also a two way street.

The End


End file.
